I caught an early bus that was running about 15 minutes late (it runs on the half hour, and I got there 15 minutes early, as is my habit) The bus driver had a palpable aura of evil around him…I very nearly didn’t board. My suspicians were confirms as he blitzed past other stops that had people waiting… not too horrid, actually… the next #10 would be along in 15, but it was gusting powerfully…. dust and grit and street stuff all in the air. note to self, get some hair ties! I was being buffeted about like Dorothy’s house. If I had to wait another quarter-hour.. who knows? Perhaps I’d land on some hapless woman in a pointy hat and shiny shoes, surrounded by little people with bad haircuts. (South beach, maybe?)

Highlights of the ride… a man that talked like a megaphone into his cell phone, using words like “dawg, yo” and “dannnnng, woman!” alternately. Fortunately, he got off the transport shortly after I got on.

I thought the AC was broken at first but things got cooler over time… the demonic driver for some reason turned it off before I got on, and allowed fumes of patorns and fuel to permeate in what was, to him probably a delightful imp’s nest. Fortunately, he reactivated it.. perhaps fearing that if we died that our torment would end. Mayhap he had a glimmer of kindness and warmth overcoming his pitted, dark aura. Though the atmosphere went to a more palatable temperature and quality, although the bus itself was a morass of filth and grit…possibly as a result of the aforementioned gale.

A nice thing about running early is that I got to transfer point early enought to take a quick trot to the library and grab some tax forms (I figure on getting that finished this week… I file electronically, but preferto check my work by hand.

While aboard the route 60 heading to work afterward, I struck up a conversation with a 40ish surf dude… he was going to his probation officer’s, and had partied hard about 15 hours previous… and was sweating out a urine test for alcohol. I don’t know how long booze stays in the system, if it’d been pot, he’d have been totally hosed. I managed to calm him down, though… I told him that alcohol leaves the system rapidly, and perhaps that the test wouldn’t find it… he was happy, and I was wassailed by a one-man chorus of “Duuuuude!” Afterwards, we went to more gentle topics, the coming cold front affecting the local rip tides and low grade curls. My brother would’ve been better at keeping on top of that conversation, but it’s impressive how much meteorology a surfer knows in regard to waves… it’s not just showing up at the beach, and hoping for a wave.